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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895148">Devouring Darkness</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylarias/pseuds/xylarias'>xylarias</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Teen Wolf (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Comfort, Derek Proposes, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, M/M, Nightmares, POV First Person, Panic Attacks, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-10-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 22:19:09</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>1,492</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26895148</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/xylarias/pseuds/xylarias</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>I wake up in a cold sweat, panting. I look around, trying to take in my surroundings in the dark. Five things I can see. I have to find five things I can see. I can't. I can't find five things I can see. There's no light. Just darkness. My breathing is unsteady, and I'm close to hyperventilating, seeing absolutely nothing in the complete, devouring darkness.</p><p>Fuck. I need to calm down. Okay. Four things I can hear. I can hear my own panicked breathing and Derek's relaxed, calm breathing.  I can't hear anything else. That's only two things. I have to find four things.</p><p>OR</p><p>Stiles has a nightmare about the Nogitsune and wakes up with a panic attack. Derek's there to calm him down.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>2</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>52</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Devouring Darkness</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>(set in the future) Stiles still has nightmares about the Nogitsune. He wakes up with a panic attack.</p><p>(note: the whole fic is from Stiles' pov, in first person. sorry)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>I wake up in a cold sweat, panting. I look around, trying to take in my surroundings in the dark. Five things I can see. I have to find five things I can see. I can't. I can't find five things I can see. There's no light. Just darkness. My breathing is unsteady, and I'm close to hyperventilating, seeing absolutely nothing in the complete, devouring darkness.</p><p>Fuck. I need to calm down. Okay. Four things I can hear. I can hear my own panicked breathing and Derek's relaxed, calm breathing.  I can't hear anything else. That's only two things. I have to find four things. I have to–</p><p>
  <em>Click.</em>
</p><p>The bedside lamp turns on, and I feel the bed moving slightly under Derek's weight as he shifts. "Stiles?" I'm still panting. I look at him, eyes wide and startled. He sits up, frowning. "Stiles, what is it?" He places a hand on my shoulder, rubbing it soothingly. I open and close my mouth a few times, trying to conjure up my voice.</p><p>"It's..." I croak. "Just a nightmare," I manage to say, attempting to sound dismissive so that I wouldn't worry Derek.</p><p>His brows are still furrowed, but realization slowly dawns upon his face. "It's the Nogitsune again, isn't it?"</p><p>I nod, swallowing. "I'm fine," I assure him. He doesn't buy it.</p><p>"No, you're not."</p><p>"I <em>am </em>fine. I'll just– I'll just go back to sleep and–"</p><p>"Stiles," he says again, looking in my eyes.</p><p>I try to fight back the tears, but I can't. I start crying, internally cursing at myself for burdening Derek. He hugs me, staying quiet. He doesn't say it's okay; he knows it's not.</p><p>I cling onto him, sniffling. I hate this. I hate these nightmares. I hate that I can't do anything to stop them. I hate being a burden to Derek every night. "I'm sorry," I whisper, sniffling.</p><p>He shakes his head. "You have nothing to be sorry for, Stiles."</p><p>"I just– I don't want to burden y–"</p><p>"You're not a burden, Stiles. You're my fiancé, and I'd do <em>anything</em> for you. You're never going to be a burden."</p><p>I smile, still tearing up, but grateful. I'm about to speak up, but suddenly I realize something. <em>Wait, what?</em></p><p>"Fiancé?" I say, pulling away so that I can see Derek's face. He looks at me, confused.</p><p>"What?"</p><p>"You said fiancé."</p><p>He licks his lips. "I didn't."</p><p>"You said 'You're my fiancé, and I'd do <em>anything </em>for you.'"</p><p>He clears his throat. "Did I?"</p><p>I wipe at my eyes, now amused. "Mmhm," I respond, raising an eyebrow at him. His face is red. "Do you have something to tell me, Hale?" He scratches the back of his neck.</p><p>"No?" he says, but it comes out sounding more like a question rather than a statement.</p><p>"Oh? Are you <em>sure</em>?"</p><p>He inhales sharply, pursing his lips. "Yes." He sounds more uncertain with every second that passes. He averts my gaze, blushing. I gasp dramatically, as if I hadn't figured out what was happening until this very moment.</p><p>"Wait wait wait," I say, "was <em>Derek Hale</em> going to <em>propose</em> to me? A mere human? What a world we live in," I say. He grumbles something, but the corners of his lips are twitching. I cup his cheek, turning his head so that he's looking at me. He leans into the touch, his cheeks still flushed. I grin at him, and he smiles; a genuine smile. I kiss him, both of my hands now cupping his cheeks. His arms are resting on my shoulders, one hand running through my hair. I pull away after a short while, interrupting him before he even says anything.</p><p>"That's a yes," I say.</p><p>He clears his throat again. "Right. Yes. Good. I'll give you the ring tomorrow," – he looks at the clock – "I mean, later today."</p><p>He gets into a more comfortable position again, probably expecting me to lie down with him, close my eyes and sleep. I don't. I'm scared of falling asleep. I'm scared of what I'm going to dream – well, have nightmares – of if I fall asleep. I sit on the edge of the bed, slowly exhaling. Derek shifts once again, turning to look at me. "Stiles? Where are you going?"</p><p>"To make coffee," I respond. "I'm not going back to sleep."</p><p>Derek sighs. "Stiles. You can't do this to yourself."</p><p>"I just can't keep having these nightmares, you know?"</p><p>He sits up, inching closer to me. "You can't keep having all-nighters either."</p><p>I let my body relax, but I don't lie back down. "I know."</p><p>"Don't go," he says, sliding his fingers down my back, barely touching. I close my eyes, exhaling slowly.</p><p>"I'm not going back to sleep," I repeat, standing up.</p><p>Derek sits up. "Okay, no. I'm not going to let you stay up all night, Stiles."</p><p>"Why not?" I turn around to look at him.</p><p>"Do you know how many times I've woken up to an empty bed, just to walk into the kitchen and see you there, drinking your, what – eighth cup of coffee?" He sighs. "I get that you're having nightmares, but–"</p><p>My face is warm, and my brows are furrowed. "Do you? Do you get that? Do <em>you </em>have fucking PTSD?" I instantly regret saying that. He does. I feel like shit more than I already did. That's not something I should say. He blinks, taken aback, looking at me with a hurt expression instead of the sympathetic, understanding and concerned one he'd had just a moment ago. My shoulders tense.</p><p>"As a matter of fact, I do," he says coldly. "Funny that you'd forgotten." A year or two ago, it'd been Derek who had woken up in a cold sweat. He'd usually been all wolfed out, and <em>I'd</em> been the one to try to calm him down and reassure that it's okay and that he's with me now. That still happens from time to time. Fuck.</p><p>"That was shitty of me to say," I admit. "I'm sorry." I sigh. "And I'm so proud of you for recovering – <em>trying</em> to recover – from it." <em>I don't say that often enough either</em>, I think.</p><p>Derek exhales sharply. "The Nogitsune did happen more recently," he states. "I get why you'd forget it. It's fine." I shake my head, my back still turned to him.</p><p>"It's not fine. Obviously. That was a stupid thing to say, and I'm sorry." Derek's breathing is steady. He doesn't say anything for a while.</p><p>"Derek? I really am sorry." I finally lie on the bed, turning to him. He's crying. He's completely still – and silent. "Fuck," I say under my breath. I inch closer to him, throwing my right arm and leg over him. I bury my head between his neck and his shoulder, inhaling his familiar scent. He smells nice, always has.</p><p>"I'm sorry," I say quietly, gently kissing his shoulder. He doesn't respond, but – even though I'm not sure he himself notices it – his arm wraps around my waist as he unconsciously draws me closer to him. "I'm so, so sorry, Derek. I love you," I say, inhaling his scent, my heart racing. I'm nervous. Anxious. "I'm sorry." I run my fingers through his hair, tenderly.</p><p>For a moment, silence is all there is. Just the soft humming of the AC can be heard, and shouts from the streets that faintly reach the apartment. "Turn around," says Derek, at last. His voice is thick. I do, and soon enough, my back is facing him. He presses himself against me and wraps his arms around me. We're spooning, I think.</p><p>I'm embraced by his warmth, and I feel myself falling into a state where I can acknowledge what's happening but feel like I'm almost asleep. It takes me a while to notice that Derek is humming, ever so quietly. I don't recognize the song, at least I don't think I do, but it's nice to hear him hum. He rarely does, much less sing. Sometimes he plays the piano; he says it calms him down.</p><p>Maybe this is his way of calming <em>me</em> down. I faintly feel my breathing slowing and my body relaxing. I'm half-asleep, but I hear Derek say something as he intertwines our hands. But wait, this isn't right. I should be the one holding him. "I'm proud of you," I say again. "So darn proud," I mutter, kissing the back of his hand.</p><p>"I love you," he whispers somewhat hoarsely, and even though I feel like I'm going to fall asleep at any given moment, I hear the sincerity in his voice.</p><p>"I love you too, Sourwolf," I mumble, wondering if he can hear me, but then it occurs to me: Of course he can. He's got those werewolf ears. "So much. Also, I'm sorry." I add. I feel his breath ruffle my hair.</p><p>With that, I fall asleep. And the nightmares don't wake me up, for once.<br/>
<br/>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>p.s. I love how "devouring" as an adjective in this context means that the darkness is so devouring that it "devours" Stiles but if it's used as a verb it means that Stiles himself is "devouring" [the] darkness and by doing so overcoming fear &amp; panic,,,</p><p>and it wasn't even intentional hahah</p></blockquote></div></div>
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